“How very thoughtful.” My honeyed voice dripped with amused sarcasm. “But I will sleep quite comfortably in my clothes.” I yawned and lay my head on the downy pillow. How much wine had I drunk? Far too much. With heavy eyes, my body relaxed into the bed’s softness.
Solomon extinguished two lights, leaving the smallest one to emit a soothing luminosity on the far side of the room.
“Good night, Queen Bilqīs.” Solomon climbed into bed on the opposite side.
“Good night, King Solomon.” I closed my eyes and drifted into oblivion.
I blinked. The dim room came into focus—I wasn’t sure how long I had slept. I swallowed, and my mouth was as parched as the desert. My tongue still burned from the spicy food. I needed water.
I recalled that there was a pitcher on the bedside table. I rolled over, sat up, and poured water into a cup. I drank, desperate to soothe my tongue, and its coolness quenched my thirst and tamed the heat.
Solomon’s hand snaked up my back and over my waist.
CHAPTER 53
“You promised!” I banged the cup down, water sloshing over the rim.
“I did.”
“You broke it.”
“I most certainly did not. You broke yours.”
“How?”
“You took something of mine.” Solomon pushed my dress strap aside and set a soft kiss on my bare shoulder.
My mind whirled. “Water?”
“Mm-hmm.” Solomon nuzzled my neck, his beard tickling my skin.
Solomon had played me again!
Dismissing the guards, the spicy meal, our promises…but my displeasure melted into his warm embrace. To be bested by the wise King Solomon, to be desired with such ardor that he concocted such an inventive seduction, made me tremble with pleasure. He had won me in the best of ways, for to prove our honor, we each had to keep our promise. All this week, I had found myself liking him more and more. But tonight . . . tonight I felt the seed of an emotion I never expected burrowing into my heart.
“I honor my promises,” I purred as his tongue trailed up the nape of my neck.
Solomon tugged at my dress to expose my breasts, then slipped his hands around to cup each one. “Your breasts are heaven on earth. Soft and full, more intoxicating than wine.” He brushed his thumb across my nipples.
I sighed into this intimate touch, let his deep voice soothe any anxiety in my body and stoke my desires. I pressed against him, felt his soft curls at my back, felt his thighs hot against mine, felt his arousal. I turned my cheek and parted my lips, eager for the taste of him.
“Bilqīs,” he breathed as his lips brushed across mine.
I lifted my arm and palmed the back of his head to urge another kiss.
Solomon pressed his lips to mine. His kiss roused something inside me, a primitive connection extending beyond the novelty of a first kiss. It touched me, heart, mind, and soul.
Solomon was an attentive lover, unhurried and thoughtful, his touch lingering, his kisses skillful. He teased my mouth wider, his tongue gliding inside to savor and nibble. He was confident and insistent, but his experience was with obedient wives and submissive concubines.
I was not those women. I yielded to no one. I showed him how to kiss a queen.
Solomon grasped my breasts tight as though asserting ownership. Our tongues wrestled and plundered. This was not a battle for domination but a fight to satisfy our shameless hunger.
He broke the kiss, his lips hovering over my mouth. “You deceived me, Bilqīs.” His thumb dragged across my lips. “I thought you were a tease, but now I see you are ravenous, a wanton lover who revels in erotic amusements.”
I sucked in his thumb, scraped my teeth over his nail, and nibbled at the tip. Next, I snugged my lips around it and pulled it in and out as my tongue looped and licked.
“Your mouth is magic.”
“You’re too easily enthralled.” I slurped on his thumb, then pulled it slowly from my lips. I pushed him back, got on my knees, and straddled him.
He wrapped his finger around a lock of my hair and pulled me into a breath-stealing kiss. “The spicy meal was meant to linger, but I have a remedy prepared. Interested?”
“Very.” I wove my fingers through the dark curls flaring across his hard chest.
Solomon crushed his mouth to mine. Our mouths fit together like familiar lovers. “I’ll take you there.”
I nipped at his lips. “Must we leave this bed?”
“We must.” He sat up. “Hold tight.”
I crossed my ankles, wrapped my arms around his neck, and sank into his lips again. Solomon rose from the bed—our lips still locked, our tongues entwined.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked through our kisses.
“To ecstasy, my sweet.” He shifted me about until I was cradled in his arms and carried me through several chambers.
Our lips parted only when he entered a marble bathing chamber luminous with three flickering lanterns. Set into the tile floor was an enormous square bath, filled with shimmering pale liquid.
I nuzzled his neck. “You planned all this.”
“How else was I going to woo the queen?” Solomon set me on my feet and tugged my dress over my shoulders, past my arms, until it dropped to puddle at my feet. His eyes tracked my dress’s descent, widening with delight when the linen fell past my thighs. “You’re hairless!”
“Only men should have beards.” I tugged on his thick beard.
“Which will soon be between your legs.” His kissed my palm, then snaked his tongue between each finger. “Come.” He took a large golden ladle lying on the marble edge and plunged it into the sunken tub. “The cure for spicy foods.” He tilted the dipping ladle to my lips.
I took a sip. The milky liquid was warm, sweet, and delicately flavored. “Delicious.” I had more, and felt the burn of our spicy meal dissolve.
“Milk, honey, and cardamom.” Solomon drank, then kissed me deeply.
“My thirst is not quenched.” I flicked my tongue over his lips.
“Mine either.” He plunged the ladle back into the bath. “In fact, I’m ravenous.” He upended the ladle.
The honeyed milk cascaded over my breasts and ran down my stomach. He bent down and licked it up, his tongue following the rivulets up to my breasts, where he savored my skin like a connoisseur.
My delta was wet, my lust overflowing like a wadi after a rainstorm. Solomon scooped me up, one arm around my back, my legs dangling over his other arm. He descended into the milk bath and set me on a wide, shallow step where I lay in a few inches of goat’s milk.
“You are a feast. My feast.” Solomon ladled more milk over me and supped upon his milky queen.
He nibbled at my shoulders and his mouth wandered downward to pay homage to cream-coated breasts. His tongue wiggled into my navel. “Delicious.” He splashed milk over my hips, where it streamed into my swollen delta. He lowered his head and splayed me with thumb and forefinger. He drenched my cunt with another ladle-full, until it streamed between my molten folds. I yearned for his mouth, his lips, his tongue to lap at my womanly estuary.
“Creamy cunt. This might be my new favorite meal.” Solomon lowered his head.
I sucked air through my teeth when his tongue parted my petals. My soaked ass lifted off the step. I wanted to push his head deep, but instead spread my thighs wider. The feel of the milk sloshing about my anus aroused me, made me long for his tongue on that sensitive skin.
With his face between my thighs and his tongue lapping at my sweet place, his hand wended past my belly and slicked circles around my breasts.
“You’re quite the tease yourself,” I said, arching my back.
Solomon’s reply was muffled in my twat as his other hand glided upward, skimmed over my rigid wet nipple, and slid toward my mouth. His fingers caressed my lips, lightly at first, then more insistent. One, two, three fingers and his thumb ravaged my mouth. I nipped and licked, moaned through the cleft of his fingers. I tongued his fingers like
they were his cock, at the same tempo he used to suck on my clit.
I hooked my knees over my hands, drew my legs up and wide. Solomon moaned and sank deeper, his beard stimulating the skin between slick slit and puckered hole.
He was extraordinarily skilled. Attuned to my every gasp and quiver. When he sensed I was near, he slowed, and drew out my ascent.
I was at his mercy, my body lost to his touch, his throaty moans, and the triple sensations of my mouth, breast, and cunt awash in bliss. He paused only to splash milk over me, and the combination of its cool wetness and his warm mouth sped me into that place where only sensation exists. Where intellect surrenders to pleasure, to the glory of divine abandonment.
Solomon lifted his head and sat across from me. “Hold on.” He drew me forward and lifted my ass up to his face such that my shoulders rested on his thighs and my hair hung over his knees into the milk. “Much better.” His face submerged into my nethers again.
I crossed my ankles behind his neck. I was his food but he was my nourishment. Never before had I felt so powerless and so glorious at the same time. And then he shifted ever so slightly, and my head descended slowly into the milk. I held my breath. The blood rushing to my head and clit at once was so intense, I exploded with release. Solomon brought me up as I writhed and bucked and gasped for air, the orgasm pounding like waves upon the rocks.
“Did you like that?” His beard dripped milk.
I couldn’t speak, my body atremble.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He stuck out his tongue, wagged it at me, and descended into my throbbing joy at the same time that he lowered my head once again into the pool.
This time I emerged singing with another orgasm that shook me to my core, left me a whimpering, quivering fool.
I had no words for the intensity of the pleasure he brought me, but he knew just the same. I was liquid in his arms, my breath heaving, my face slack with contentment. Solomon took my thigh, swung it over his head, and helped me into the bath, where the milk reached my upper thighs. Limp as a rag doll, I allowed Solomon to bend me over the side of the pool, with my forearms propping me up.
Solomon massaged my milk-glazed ass. “I dreamed of this moment,” he whispered as he knelt down.
“So did I,” I said.
He slid his finger into the creases, stroked the dimple at the top, brushed across my pulsing clit, and catapulted me into another orgasm that pummeled my body into glorious bliss.
“I can wait no longer, my Queen of Sheba.” He pushed in. Deep and hard.
I cried out as he entered and I felt my rapture around his length. I pulsed around him, hugged his cock with my velvet slide.
Each thrust was leisured, yet thorough, submerging deep, packing me well. His angled withdrawal had me begging for more. He dribbled milk down my ass, scratched my skin over the path the liquid made, and entered again. Each reentry quivered my buttocks and cunt, left me in a sweet, slow agony.
Solomon slapped my ass before the next thrust.
“Again,” I grunted.
He obliged. Slapped hard again and again, and then took me like a man who had reached his limits. He growled, low and deep, and hammered into me, his complete abandon pushing me over the brink yet again.
He convulsed, gripped my ass hard, and let loose a throaty cry. As my silken wall tightened around his cock, I reached back and gently squeezed his balls. He shuddered with a long moan, then his body relaxed, and he rested atop me, his beard in my neck.
Together we slithered into the depths of the milk bath where he gathered me in his arms and set me on his lap.
“You fuck like a goddess.” He nipped my ear.
My head resting on his shoulder, I turned, grabbed his beard, and kissed him deeply.
Our tongues collided, first with relieved satisfaction, then with growing need. When I wrapped my arms around his neck, he took hold of each breast. His cock stiffened again, stood at attention between my thighs.
“Tell me, sweet goddess, how you want King Solomon to fuck you this time, because it seems my cock demands more of you.”
I tugged his beard. “How much more?”
“Until you beg me to stop.”
CHAPTER 54
I yawned and rolled over to find Solomon propped on his elbow, his face soft with adoration.
“Good morning, King of Israel.” I stretched like a cat.
Solomon’s eyes roamed up and down my body. “Good morning, Queen of Sheba.” He gestured to his cock, hard and ready. “Time for breakfast.” He got on his knees, grabbed my ankles, and hoisted them up and over so my toes hovered behind my head.
“Oh my, you are hungry,” I said as his face planted itself in my feminine garden.
This position gave him full access. He used it well, his tongue sweeping back to front. My toes curled with wanting. My legs began shaking, my knees dropping into my chest, and then he plunged two fingers into my ass as his tongue pushed into my delta. My body shuddered and quivered for release, and I cried out for sweet mercy as he fucked both my holes. The tension burst and my body melted like molten rock into him. Solomon lowered my shaking legs around his hips and, still on his knees, drove his cock into me until I came again. Together we crested the mountain of pleasure, our rhythmic grunts squeezing out the last drop of pleasure.
We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in his chambers. Except for a few servants who brought our meals, we were alone, the cares of diplomacy and ruling cast aside to quench an insatiable lust.
By the end of the afternoon, we lay exhausted in the milk bath, staring dreamy eyed at each other.
Solomon stretched his arm, then hauled himself out and sat on the edge of the tub. He lifted his cock, which was soft and satisfied. “You wore me out. No woman has ever done that. Ever.”
I swam up to him and parted his thighs, took his tired cock in one hand and cupped his balls in the other. “So soon?”
Solomon guffawed, a hearty sound that resounded in the marble room. “You’re amazing, Bilqīs, but nothing is getting my cock up again.”
“Challenge accepted.” I took him in my mouth.
Within moments his cock grew stiff, my skilled tongue bringing him back to life.
I knew men, knew that unlike a woman’s cunt, they couldn’t orgasm repeatedly. That there was a limit to his cum. I was prepared for this. Counted on it.
I sucked and licked and fondled until Solomon could do little more than groan, his pleasure plateau intense yet unable to be released.
“This is torture,” he gasped, his head swaying back and forth. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
I didn’t.
The sunlight filtering through the round aperture in the ceiling shifted. The shadows elongated. Time passed. And then Solomon jerked and bucked and roared like a lion. His thick salty cum spurted into my mouth.
Solomon fell back. “That was the most agonizingly painful, wondrous orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. You sucked me dry.” He lifted his head from the floor. “I think I love you, Bilqīs.”
I rose from the tub and curled next to him, entwining like a snake around his body. “I love you too, Solomon. And it frightens me beyond comprehension.”
Solomon did not hear my confession because he was already snoring.
CHAPTER 55
I sat on the chair and wept.
Duvsha and Shani kneeled beside me, unable to stem the flow of my tears with comforting words.
“A year.” I wiped my swollen eyes. “Solomon and I are inseparable. We fuck every day. Often three times.” I shuddered with a new sob. “My womb is closed. Broken.”
Once again I woke in Solomon’s bed to find my thighs smeared with my monthly blood.
Duvsha rubbed my back. “Gula said it might take a while.”
Shani handed me a handkerchief. “Does Solomon give his seed to anyone else?”
“If he does I don’t know how. Or when! We spend our days and nights together.” I blew my nose, a horrible sound that sounde
d nothing like a queen and everything like an inconsolable woman in love.
Love! How did I let it happen? I was a great queen. Love was complicated and painful and wonderful and…
And that missing something I’d felt for so long, that void in my heart I refused to name—it now buzzed like a beehive overflowing with honey. Love sweetened everything; food tasted better, the sun shone brighter, flowers were more fragrant, the daily petty grievances with my entourage were less tiresome. Everything was sweeter. Except for my barren womb.
Duvsha offered me a goblet of wine. “It must be Almaqah’s will. Or . . .” She looked away, reluctant to bring up the obvious reason.
I spent too much time learning about Solomon’s God.
I snorted my annoyance. “Then I will make offerings to Athtar or Hawbas.” Maybe those gods would accept my limited enthusiasm.
“Perhaps you have been cursed,” offered Shani. “I would not be surprised if it was one or several of Solomon’s six hundred wives and three hundred concubines. Surely, they rage with jealousy. He spends all his time with you, and you are neither his wife nor his concubine.”
Duvsha nodded. “Jerusalem has its fair share of magicians and sorcerers. Who knows, your empty womb may be the result of someone’s curse on Solomon, and has nothing to do with you.”
My gut told me otherwise.
“Or maybe the problem is here.” I swept my arm about the room. “With my people. With my magician.” I guzzled the wine, infused with a womb-opening herb that was not working fast enough. “Bring the Magus here.”
Duvsha’s eyes widened. “You’re going to ask him if he cursed you?”
“Not quite.” I stood up and squeezed shut my eyes, concentrating on changing my mood, to shake off my unqueenly self-pity for a more productive emotion. “And tell Solomon I’d like to see him.”
Duvsha and Shani shared a baffled look.
After Duvsha left to deliver the summons, I wiped away a tear, which I decided would be the last one shed over my barrenness. “Shani, how do I look?”
“Blotchy and puffy-eyed. A soothing compress is all you need. I’ll have you looking like a goddess in no time.”
Confessions of a Sheba Queen Page 25
